The Retreat of Reckoning
Feb. 17, 2026
“The retreat of reckoning is coming. There’s a reluctance and also a knowing that this must be gone through. The spaciousness of this weekend feels almost terrifying - like too much room to think and feel.”
The lines stare back at me from my journal, written months ago but I can still feel the heaviness when I wrote them.
Yoga retreat weekends are usually a highlight in my calendar, and the joy lights up as soon as I step into my car to begin the drive. Retreats refresh my soul. There is never any hesitation in signing up, and on the rare occasions when I can’t go, I can feel both my body and spirit ache for that precious time away.
Feb. 20, 2026
“Heading to retreat today. A little scared of what will rise but knowing that this is important for me - for my grief, and my spirit - to face the reality and accept life as it is.”
My mom passed away on September 16, 2022. She had been ill for several years, living with Parkinson’s Disease, diabetes, and other ailments that seemed to pile on top of her. She was in and out of the hospital and rehab, with my dad as her primary caretaker. Her passing was not sudden but it was jarring. Losing a mother rips your heart out, especially when you yourself are a mother and you know how deep that love goes.
I learned a lot after she passed. I learned that the first year of grief is not even the hardest. Year One is about surviving the firsts: the first Christmas without her, the first birthdays, the first Mother’s Day. After that year, the realization of life without a mom on this planet becomes the reality. And it hurts even more in Year Two because permanency sets in.
I learned that changing your emergency contacts can cause you to cry at the doctor’s office. I learned that when your daughter qualifies for a state level horse show and all you want to do is call your mom to tell her, your best friend will answer instead and cry with you as you drive home. I learned that my mom shopped for Christmas presents all year long, and had 12 ornaments ready to give the grandchildren.
On top of my grief, I also felt responsible for my dad, a retired dairy farmer whose hobbies were milking and feeding cows. Planting corn, making hay, and birthing calves kept him busy his entire life. He and my mom were married 45 years and never spent more than 2 nights apart. He stayed active without her as he shuttled grandchildren to practices and events, but he missed her desperately.
Feb. 21, 2026
“Last night during yogaflow, my body felt heavy. Basic hip-openers seemed strenuous - like my body was weighed down. Energy seemed stagnant. Today, I felt lighter, more open, my breath longer. This morning, Theresa gently “tucked” me into Deep Relaxation, placing a blanket over my body. I saw my mom and dad above me. I felt love surrounding me - from above and from all the love others carry for me down here on Earth. I saw dark colors during meditation, but by the end I could see light. And I felt a pull inward. When I opened my eyes, there were tears. I didn’t know they were there.”
My dad and I had never been especially close, but after Mom died, we talked on the phone every few days and had family dinners together almost weekly. I made him homemade meals to freeze, and he came to all the grandchildren events he could. He was in good health and still feeding calves every day.
His sudden passing on December 8, 2025 was truly shocking. The day before, he went to my nephew and niece’s swim meet. Winter bothered him and he was always cold, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. It felt too soon for all of us. We were not prepared. But as my 8-year old nephew said, he missed Grandma Jody so much that his heart literally broke.
Feb. 22, 2026
“I saw two deer this morning in the field when I woke up. The snow is melting here, and I like the patchwork - the transition (although I am sure winter is far from over). There is room here, room to let the emotions flow through without stopping, to feel the tug and pull of thoughts. The spaciousness of having only myself to focus on. But it’s my parents’ death and my own grief that I need to feel. It’s the feeling of now being the ‘grown-up’ at age 46. There is no one left to guide us.”
It’s a strange feeling to not have parents in the world. My days are busy as a mom, an employee, a wife. But the grief sits there, in residence. It appears at the strangest times, but also at all the times it should. Like when my son graduated sixth grade and earned a citizenship award. I watched him walk across the stage and knew that my mom and dad would have been so proud. I could always brag unabashedly to them about my kids because I knew they loved them just as much as I did.
Feb. 23, 2026
“After retreat, two things: When Theresa tucked me into Deep Relaxation, it felt like a parent tucking a child in. Later it came to me: the vivid memory of my dad tucking me into bed at night. That’s who my brothers and I always wanted, but he milked cows until late, so when he did come home in time for bedtime, it was special and rare. I know that I am blessed and well taken care of here on Earth. I have people who will always ‘tuck me in.’ That is the counterweight to grief.
My word for the weekend was ‘Rested.’ I realized the word was not meant for me, but for my parents. They are now able to rest after a not-so-easy life. My mom for sure is pain-free, but my dad was not able to rest easily here on Earth without her. Now they have their togetherness - their rest.”
The grief will never go away, but I have reckoned with it. I have felt it deeply and have made room for it. It lives within me, and that’s ok.
My next yoga retreat is coming up in October. I’m curious this time as to what will come to the surface. But I know that whatever I need will find its way through, and for that, I am grateful.
Jess will be returning to Light on the Hill in Van Etten, New York, for the TriYoga Fall Retreat (Oct. 9-11), led by Theresa and assisted by longtime TriYoga student and TriYoga Senior Teacher Chandra. Yoga, meditation, community, nature and more are on the menu.
Jess Pennella has been a TriYoga student for over 20 years, discovering it as she started her career as an elementary teacher in New Orleans. After moving back to Pennsylvania, she connected with TYCP in 2016, becoming certified as a TriYoga teacher. Shortly after leaving the education field, she took on the role of TYCP Communications Coordinator.
Jess lives in rural Sullivan County, PA with her husband and two kids, plus lots and lots of animals.